Unique Forms of Continuity in Space
by clarahoswald
Summary: The Doctor takes Clara to a ball in 19th Century, Prussia. Name calling, and poetry ensues.
1. Chapter 1

"How do you do it again?"

The old man's harsh Scottish accent crept up on Clara, making her drop her book and look up at him, with a loud gasp.

The Doctor was on the other side of the console, trying to twirl around, both of his arms outstretched, with his head tilted way too far to the left.

Clara bit down on her lip, to stop herself from laughing, but wasn't strong enough to stop a small little squeak of laughter escape.

Her eyes were fixed on the Doctor's failed waddles, as he tried to find his steps to form at least one iota of a dance pattern. Clara reclaimed her book from the floor, and rested her arms on her knees, watching the 2,000 year old pensioner.

"Oh. My God, look at you, taking your first baby steps." Clara said sarcastically.

The Doctor dropped his arms down.

"Oh, haaaa haaaa." The Doctor droned. "Now shut up and help me."

"What _are_ you doing?" Clara asked, bemused at his feet clamping down on the hard floor, sending echoes down hall ways, 50 miles from the console room.

"Learning to dance."  
"I'm sorry?"  
"Learning to dance, what are you deaf as well as stubborn?" He asked.

Clara rolled her eyes. She didn't want to rise to it, because she knew she would win.

"So, let me get this straight." She said pulling herself from the chair. "You're a 2,000 year old alien, from an ancient planet, who saves lives and stops danger, and has been around for….GOD knows how long, but the old man… _doesn't know how to dance?_ "

The Doctor could sense the sarcastic, but strangely organic, shock in her voice, and grounded his feet to a halt. He swallowed his lips, and looked away from her huge eyes.

"…Maybe."  
"Bloody hell, now I really have seen everything." She chuckled, placing the book down on the console.  
"Well, I've been around a bit, haven't I? I've got a brain the size of NASA but bigger and with a few more space ships and clutter, that a guy like me would call offensive."

Weird comparison, but Clara took it.

"May I ask why?"  
"Because, I'm curious. I want to become a dancer."

Clara raised an eyebrow.

Rolling his eyes, the Doctor sighed.

"Well no, BUT! I'd like to become an artist but I'm too gregarious."  
"If gregarious is the word for it."  
"What do you mean by that?"

Clara laughed, settling back down into the chair. "Nothing" She said.

The Doctor dragged his hard stare at her. With his eyebrows lower down his face than they had ever been before, he turned to the console.

A little bit of this over here. A little bit of that over there and the TARDIS engines roared into action, sending Clara flying off her chair, screaming.

"Clara! Go down to the wardrobe; pick your best old fashioned outfit!" He said, picking her up off the floor.

"Why?" Clara asked, breathlessly.

"It's a surprise."


	2. Chapter 2

The TARDIS landed with a thump.

A shoe laced in jingles and jangles, protected by the float of the end of a golden dress, stepped out of the centuries old, creaking door.

Clara, covered in diamonds and sequins, popped her head out, with adventure in her eyes.

" _Pick your best old fashioned outfit!_ "

 _Old fashioned._

Wherever they were for The Doctor to have an idea for a fun day out, that was "old-fashioned", this definitely wasn't the place.

As Clara fully emerged from the TARDIS, she glared on at the bleakness of a grey wall, facing her. She crossed her arms and rested her back against the doors.

"Doctor!" she called.

Like a puppy being called for its dinner, the _clip clops_ of the Doctor's ridiculously long smart shoes, scattered out the door, followed by the man himself.

"Do you like it?" He asked, the sound of excitement in his voice, almost falling off his tongue.  
"Do I like…a broom cupboard?" Clara replied.  
"Huh?"

The Doctor furrowed his eyebrows down. He turned to look at the grey walls that stood behind a couple of wicker boxes with wine and table cloths, sitting on them.

"We're not in a broom cupboard, Clara! We're in the cupboard of a kitchen!"  
"We're still in a cupboard, which has definitely _not_ piqued my interest in today's outing, would you like to try again?"

Sassiness abound, today was surely setting off without a hitch.

The Doctor barely squinted his eyes, letting his humungous teeth emerge, giving off _that_ smile. The smile the Doctor always made by when the smell of adventure or excitement, was just around the corner, the smile the Doctor always got when he knew something Clara didn't.

"Oh, Clara…" His Scottish accent rested at the back of his throat, letting his words elongate and sit in the grain of his deep voice.

He licked his lips.

"I have something to show you, would you be my guest?"

The Doctor pinned his arm in front of his hip, leaving a wide gap, waiting for Clara to accompany him with hers.

Clara frowned. Questioning whether he really _did_ have something to show her, or if this was just another rouse and at the end of the day the two would be running for their lives, and Clara would probably break an ankle, as she realised these heels were _hell_ to walk in.

Through the cupboard door, Clara was greeted to a scene of chaos and noise as chefs in white hats, and aprons scrammed the kitchen.

A smash of a plate over here, "table number 21!" over there, bounced off the walls.

The Doctor navigated their way through the battle scene, pushing his way through two large swinging double doors, before finally….

A chandelier dangling from the ceiling of a hall, the size of a warehouse, oversaw the tables of Prussian aristocrats dining for dinner, an orchestra playing Bach's Fifth Symphony, and couples, _actually dancing_ , in the centre of the room.

Clara looked as if her eyes were about to be pop, as she gazed upon the magic that filled the room.

"Wh-"She tried to speak but failed. Her words were too busy dancing away with the sways and swishes of the dancing people, and the smooth sounds of a violin bow, gliding across the strings.

Clara swished her head away from the beauty, turning to the Doctor.

"This isn't you…" She started. "You're not the Classical music, Doctor, you're the…Rock'n'Roll Doctor!"  
"Excuse me; I can be the classical man if I want to be, thank you very much!"

Offence gritting against his teeth, the Doctor leaned back against the wall, prying his case.

"Really?" Her smile almost tore her cheeks. Oh, how she loved making the old man prove her wrong, "Alright then. Show me."

Clara folded her arms and squeezed out a smile. The Doctor frowned into her eyes, but what he saw in them, off of the look her face made when she smiled like that; lips tucked in, smile pushed high, creating the cutest dimples in the entire universe buried deep in her cheeks, lifted his passive aggression and made his hearts smile.

"And that is exactly what I was practising for, earlier!" He exclaimed.  
"So, you think you've got the right shoes on?"  
"Well, why don't we find out?"

The Doctor offered his hand to her.

"Ms. Oswald."

Clara took it.


	3. Chapter 3

Clara thought she was here for dancing.

Slow, passionate, swishful dancing.

Her mouth, slightly ajar, her eyes wide with embarrassment, she stood on the side of the room, just…staring. That's she all she would bring herself to do. Her eyes were locked onto the Doctor, who was, in fact, dancing. Kind of.

With his arms were outstretched before him. Palms flat down in the air, then up. Then, both of his arms crossed underneath his neck, on his shoulders. Then he placed both of them either side of his head, then crossed over his stomach onto his hips, then behind his back and he twisted his body.

"Doctor…." Clara spoke. The horror of what she was watching, clearly in her voice.  
"That's not the Waltz…That's the bloody Macarena."  
"Eh?" The Doctor said, repeating the dance with his hands back on his head.

Clara gritted her teeth.

"Stop!" she hissed. She moved from her spot against the wall, grabbing his hands off his hips and into her palms. "Everyone is staring at us."  
"So? I was dancing!"  
"That was not dancing! That was primary school assembly twaddle!"

The Doctor frowned. Clara rolled her eyes. She placed one of his hands into hers, and the other on her hip. She relaxed one arm across his, up onto his shoulder, and began to sway in circles around the spot.

"What is this?" The Doctor asked, horrified at his feet.  
" _This_ is The Waltz, Doctor, you will find your feet at the end of your legs, you may care to use them."

The old man smiled. Clara stared at him, losing his eyes as his cheeks rose, and his take over.

The two fell silent, letting the orchestral music playing in the grand hall, speak all the words the two could never utter to each other.

Clara took a step closer, wrapping an arm around the Doctor's back, and placed her chin upon his shoulder. She closed her eyes, and followed the Doctor's smooth sways. Without a word of warning, the Doctor pulled her off him, and spun her around. The dazzling light of the chandeliers that hung above them, turned into dozens of fairies, ten feet above Clara's head.

"Woah…" Clara managed to splutter out, as the spinning came to a halt and her vision came back into focus.

The Doctor brought her close to him again, continuing the sway.

"Teach me Gallifreyan." Clara spoke.  
"I'm sorry?"  
"Teach me Gallifreyan."

He chuckled.

"What makes you want to learn that?"  
"Because you speak it, or…spoke it. And, I want to know what ancient words of love you spoke to your friends and family."  
The Doctor could feel his chest begin to ache.

"How do you know any of them were about love?"

Clara put her hand on his chest. The thumping of the Time Lord's two hearts vibrated through her fingers.

"You obviously didn't have enough love in one heart to share to your world, so someone gave you two."

She looked up at the Doctor, giving him her big sad eyes.

"That's why."

Looking down at her, the Doctor realised something. This woman, with eyes the size of footballs and a sassy mouth that obviously wanted to go solo. This woman saw the Doctor for who he really was.

A lover. Not a fighter. Despite all of his actions, she loved this man nonetheless.

This was a new feeling for the old man. The feeling of being understood for the first time.

Looking off into the crowd of dancers, the Doctor sucked in a breath.

"Alright." He says.

He raised his hand, twirling Clara around on the spot.

The sound of her laughter got caught in his hearts, and there would they be locked forever.

Suddenly, the Doctor tipped Clara diagonally. Catching her, the Doctor looked down into her eyes.

"Too much eyes." He said.  
"Val'sita neflon."  
"Wow, you really know how to compliment a girl." Clara sassed, but repeated the words to herself regardless.

Pulling themselves back up, the orchestra music faded, and the loud clapping of hands filled the hall.


End file.
